


And Sometimes, What Seems Like the Ending

by writerdragonfly



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crossover, Family, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Not Epilogue Compliant, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdragonfly/pseuds/writerdragonfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger is called as the Slayer, but events in her life and the Wizarding World make the reality of it impossible to determine. Several years and a war later, the disappearance of her younger sister lead Hermione to the calling she never knew she had, and a future she never expected.</p>
<p>HP canon compliant up until the epilogue of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. BtVS canon compliant up through the Glory arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters One and Two were rewritten in January of 2017. The content has remained mostly the same, and as such will break at the same points as previously. Subsequent chapters should (hopefully!) be much longer in keeping with my more recent works.

 

#  One

 

When it happens, she is sitting alone in her office, a tiny little thing she’d dug out of an old coat closet deep in the bowels of the Ministry. It comes over her like a sudden breath of air, starting at the back of her neck and the breadth of her shoulders like a chill and cloaking her entirely with a bone-deep knowledge. It isn’t gradual or kind, but the kind of sudden and terrifying  _ something is wrong _ that had heralded too many portents of disaster in her past.

 

There’s a stack of permits awaiting filing in front of her, and they don’t so much as move.

 

It feels like something has switched inside her head, suddenly flipped online. Something is wrong, something  _ bad _ is happening.

 

It takes her a few days to realize the depth of it, the entirety of the first of which it takes before she figures out what has happened.

 

Her sister, seven years her junior and in her Third Year at Hogwarts, is gone. There’s no trace of her, not a lick of information confirming to Hermione that she ever existed. Her parents, even, do not seem to believe her.

 

She’s put on enforced leave at the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, given several requests to go into St. Mungo’s to see a specialist. Even  _ Harry  _ is worried by her insistence that her sister existed, visibly and audibly so.

 

But she knows she isn’t crazy. She knows it deep in her heart, she can  _ feel it _ . Just like she’d felt that chill in her spine right before every big and terrible event that had happened since she was thirteen years old. Just like she felt every single time she was around Hagrid’s more dangerous friends, the way she felt around Dolores Umbridge and Sanguini and  _ Voldemort _ .

 

There was no record of her sister in England _ at all _ . Her teachers had never heard of her, the hospital had no record of birth, and even though she had clear memories of it, her parents, who had stayed back in Australia, had no memory of her sister either. 

 

Where is her sister? Where is  _ Dawn? _ Is she out there, somewhere, alone? Feeling abandoned, and forgotten?

  
  


By December, Hermione had moved out of her little flat and into her parent’s London house. They hadn’t taken well to her insistence that a sister existed, refusing to return to London to do so much as visit after the last trip she had taken out to see them. 

 

The strain that had been wrought of her adamant refusal to put “ _ the ridiculous notion that you have a sister _ ” behind her had tanked her slowly burgeoning career in the Ministry and ruined her relationship with Ron. Harry still tried, but she could see how difficult it was for him to attempt impartial from the situation when he didn’t truly believe her himself. She pushed him away, screamed and yelled and ignored him until he backed away with that sad look on his face.

 

She continued to research, to search through every sliver of memory in anyone she could remember Dawn having spoken of. But there was nothing, and no one.

 

By February, she’d turned to whatever local Wicca communities she could find in search of an answer. And in early March, it proved fruitful when she found a young Wiccan who was willing to teach her a blood to blood spell. 

 

As a witch who wielded a wand, she had been taught over the years that Wicca was considered a lesser magic. After all, they pulled magic from the Earth, and were blessed or cursed by ancient gods and goddesses at request. Witches like her were  _ born  _ magic, pulled their spells from within. The idea of using Wicca was an affront to the community that had given her a home and an amazing life.

 

But for her little sister, she would do far more than that.

 

-x-

 

Her head is spinning, a riotous kaleidoscope of color taking over her vision like a headrush. Everything aches. But there’s an image in her head when the color finally clears. A wooden sign, recently freshly repainted in cheery colors.  _ Welcome to Sunnydale, California _ .

 

She purchases plane tickets without another thought before writing the Wiccan girl a thank you note and encloses double their agreed payment. She would take the trip alone. 

 

She arrives in Los Angeles two days later, completely exhausted from her trip. She had packed everything she might have a cause to need into her beaded bag and got on a bus. A few hours later, she walks out of the bus stop and realises she hasn’t a clue where to look for her now.

 

She feels so alone and lost for the first time in a very long time.

 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters One and Two were rewritten in January of 2017. The content has remained mostly the same, and as such will break at the same points as previously. Subsequent chapters should (hopefully!) be much longer in keeping with my more recent works.

#  Two

Sunnydale, California could more accurately be referred to as Sunnyhell, and Hermione sincerely doubts she was the first to think so. The supernatural population was leaps and bounds more chaotic and varied than back home, and there seemed to be no regard for the laws that governed them. She knew things were different in the US, that the laws that governed them weren't the same as back home, but to see so many creatures out at night (and sometimes even during the day!) was utterly baffling.

 

She'd come across her first vampire two nights into her search for Dawn. It was newly turned and smelled far worse than the vampires she knew from home. 

 

The predator in her had taken over when the vampire had attacked. Instead of the spells she'd learned to protect herself from an errant vampire attack, she'd punched him in the face and ended up skewering him with her wand. 

 

After the first one, she found some sort of eerie thrill take her over, a  _ rightness.  _ It was terrifying and exciting and she hated it as much as she loved it. 

 

It hadn’t been the first time she’d felt that pull. She’d felt it since she was thirteen years old and knew there was a creature in the school petrifying students, since she froze a riot of Cornish Pixies, and in the instant she saw the reflection of the Basilisk. But she hadn’t felt it to this extent until she was a Third Year, faced with Red Caps, Grindylows, and Boggarts. When there was something inside her that just screamed out that these creatures were  _ wrong _ . That they needed to be hunted down and destroyed.

 

At that age, it was an intensely scary feeling that lead her to spend countless hours in the library researching human to animal polyjuice accidents to find out if there was ever a way to erase the feeling inside she assumed had to be left over from being a cat.

 

As a young teenager, she never stopped to think about the fact that she’d never thought that way about mice or birds, even though that was a normal and instinctual feline response. As an adult, the idea that  _ maybe it wasn’t from being a cat _ was utterly terrifying feeling. 

 

And so, she prefers not to think about it at all, and instead spends her days searching in vain for her sister and her nights attacking vampires in one of Sunnydale’s startling number of cemeteries.

 

The search goes achingly slow.


End file.
